


Death and Fog

by sweet_sue_sparrow



Category: Supernatural, The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: Also fluff, Case Fic, Crossover, M/M, Mystery, a weeee bit of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3293798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweet_sue_sparrow/pseuds/sweet_sue_sparrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a city of deep fogs and unsolved crimes, there is something larger and darker than meets the eye.<br/>On the hunt for what he believes to be a demon, Dean meets Sebastian Castellanos, a veteran detective whose own fight with the evil that hides in Beacon Mental Hospital cost him his partner and very nearly his life.  Meanwhile Castiel investigates the hospital and discovers that things are much, much worse than they seem.<br/>As the hunters pursue their supernatural leads, Sebastian delves deeper into the mystery that brought him to Beacon in the first place and discovers that not all is lost after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> NB. I guess this is set around season 8 of spn because it's my favorite season and I'm still not all caught up. 
> 
> I'm so glad my first crossover fic is between one of my favorite shows and my favorite games. I hope you all have as much fun reading this as I'm having writing it!  
> Please leave comment, I crave your feedback!

***Dean***

            Krimson City was gray and nearly empty even at midday.  It was one of those places that meant something once, before the recession.  Now industry had given way to crime, life had given way to fog.  For as far as Dean could see, there was nothing but gray.

            The hospital was no cheerier, though at least the full parking lot indicated signs of life. Dean walked through the slowly rotating automatic door and checked the folded piece of paper he had tucked in his pocket. _Sebastian Castellanos (detective)._ Whoever this guy was, Sam had said he was important. _Vital_.

            “Can I help you?”  Asked a bleary-eyed receptionist.

            “I’m looking for a man called Castellanos.”  He said, “Sebastian Castellanos.”

            “And who’re you?” 

            “FBI” Dean said, pulling out a badge. “Agent Martin.”

            The receptionist perked up.  “FBI? Really?”

            “Really really.”  He said.

            “Wow, um, Mr. Castellanos is on the fourth floor, room 4035.”

            “Thanks hon.”  Dean gave her a wink and a grin.

            Room 4035 was at the end of a white hallway.  A plastic name plate on the door read _Castellanos, S._   A monitor on the wall outside was beeping softly in time with the peaks and valleys of a heart beat. God Dean hated hospitals. Nevertheless, he stepped into the room and pushed aside the checked curtain within.  Inside it was almost painfully plain.  Not a single card or flower, or family picture to personalize the empty space. 

            A man lay in the bed, ostensibly asleep.  He looked like he’d stumbled straight out of an old film noir. His rough chin was bruised and his frown lines smoothed somewhat, but it was undoubtedly the face of a hardened detective.  Rugged and wrung out.

            “Detective Castellanos?”  Dean asked, almost softly. 

            The man’s eyes opened slowly.  “Yeah?”

            “I’m with the FBI.  I’m here to ask you a few questions about what happened at Beacon Mental Hospital.”

            A sigh.  “Didn’t one of your guys already come by?”

            “At the Bureau we value meticulousness.”  Dean thought the SAT vocab might help his case.

            “Look,” Castellanos moaned a little as he heaved himself into a sitting position, “I told the last fed who came by and I’ll tell you too, whatever happened back there, it wasn’t something for the FBI.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?”  Dean pushed him.

            “It means there isn’t anything I could tell you that you’d believe. And if you did, you’d lose your job.”

            “That stuff is sort of my specialty.”  Dean cracked a smile.  “So why don’t you start at the beginning.” 

            “Which one?”  Castellanos humphed.

            “When you got to Beacon, let’s start there.”

            The other man paused for a long moment, eyes searching the ceiling. “By the time we got there they’d already dispatched half a dozen units.  The cars were all empty, we couldn’t hear anything.  It was pretty obvious that something was wrong.”

            “Wait,” Dean said, “Who’s ‘we’?” 

            “Connelly, he’s dead now, I think.  And Kidman. Fuck if I know where she is.” The bedridden detective spat the hard syllables of the name.  “And Joseph.”  His voice softened then, almost to a whisper. 

            “Joseph?”

            “My… my partner.  He didn’t make it out.” The pain in his voice was almost tangible.

            “Oh.” Dean said, “I’m sorry.”

            Castellanos swallowed.  “Anyway, when we got there, the whole place was full of bodies.  Patients, police, guards, everywhere.”

            “Could you tell the cause of death?”  Dean asked.

            “Not then.  But later I saw him kill. I saw it on camera. He just touched them.”

            “Who’s ‘he’?”

            “Ruvik. He was a…. a scientist or something. A fucking psycho. He got Connelly too. Well, sort of. Anyway, he’s dead now. He better be fucking dead now.”

            _Ruvik_.  Dean wracked his brain for some kind of connection, but came up blank.

            “You took him out?”

            “Yeah.” A dry laugh. 

            “Is that… did he get your partner?”

            “Joseph? No. No he didn’t.” Castellanos paused. “Tell me something agent, you got a partner on this case?”

            “Yeah.” Dean’s thoughts turned, for the first time since they’d split up that morning, to Cas.  “Yeah.  He’s out at Beacon now.”

            “Look out for him.  Law enforcement’s a dangerous line of work.  You think you’re used all the crazy shit, the death, the drama, but when it’s one of your own… it’s…different.”

            “I know what you mean.”  Dean said. He thought of Sam, of Cas, of losing them again, this time forever.  He couldn’t blame Castellanos for getting emotional.  “So tell me, what happened next?”

 

***Joseph***

           

            _Joseph knew what he had to do. He and Sebastian had a language all their own, spoken through eyebrows and pointed glances. He crept up beside Leslie. The boy was distressed, and just as Joseph reached him he started to scream.  Windows burst from their frames, the sun fled from view behind a cloud. Juli fired two shots.  One of them missed Leslie and Joseph entirely, the second found home._

_His life did not flash before his eyes.  He did not see any long tunnels with bright lights at the end.  There was pain.  More than he had expected. Time seemed to slow exponentially. He was falling. He could see Juli. She looked at him for a second. He thought there was some shade of regret there. Maybe he had imagined it. His head struck the concrete with a resounding crack and the world splintered into pieces. Somewhere far away Sebastian was shouting.  Seb. He thought he heard his name. But it was dark, and quiet now._

            He had died, of that he was sure.  So he didn’t know why, when his eyes fluttered open, he was looking up at a mundane, paneled ceiling.  He was lying on a cold surface, a linoleum floor.  His head ached, and his mouth tasted like dust.  He groped, instinctively, for his glasses.  He found them, about a foot away.  The left lens was spider webbed by cracks. 

            He sat up slowly and put them on.  He was in a concrete room with gray walls and a while linoleum floor. A hospital room. He was still in Beacon. That thought brought a twisted mass of panic up in his throat.  But it wasn’t the same now.  It was quiet. Daylight (albeit tinted gray) filtered in through the barred windows. 

            Joseph patted himself down systematically.  Taking inventory of his parts.  The wound in his chest was gone, and in the pocket of his vest, a note.

_Joseph,_

_I was supposed to kill you after the mission.  You and the others.  To eliminate incriminating evidence. But I guess I’ve gone a little soft on you.  Couldn’t do it._ _You have to run, Joseph.  Get out of town, out of the country if you can.  If they find out you’re alive… You don’t want to know.  Just run._

_I’m sorry,_

_-Kidman_

            His first thought was of Sebastian.  Wherever he was, if he was still alive, he was in as much danger as Joseph himself. Had Juli spared him too? Of course she had. He didn’t even consider the question. He had to find Sebastian.  

            He sat still on the cold floor, contemplating how to go about that, when a pair of black shoes entered his line of sight,  His eyes moved slowly up the rest of the body. Before him stood a man in a black suit and long khaki trench coat.  He looked down at Joseph with the same surprise the latter was feeling.

            “Who are you?”  Joseph managed. His tongue was dry and unwieldy.

            “I’m Castiel.”  Said the man, “I’m here to help.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late! I was working on a short story for school and I couldn't make time.  
> By the way I'm not keeping up with The Assignment and all that since my PC died, so I'm not taking that into account for this story.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

***Sebastian***

_“She’s gone.” Sebastian sighed, twisting his fingers in the flowered duvet cover.  “Myra’s gone.”_

_“I’m sorry.” Joseph half-whispered. He was sitting beside Sebastian, on the corner of the bed, on Myra’s side._

_“She just…packed her bags and left.” Sebastian went on, “I thought we were doing better.”  He was studying the Jacobean tendrils that wound their way all over the coverlet, when he felt a sudden warm pressure on his shoulder.  It was Joseph’s hand._

_“Seb,” his partner was looking at him with a strange expression somewhere between sympathy and pain. “It’s not your fault,” he said, “don’t blame yourself.”_

_“Joseph…” Sebastian sighed, but he found he didn’t have the words for the latter part of that sentence._

_“Not that it helps, but I understand.”  Joseph went on, “my ex-wife and I…we… split up before I moved down here.  It was hard but…it was for the best.”_

_This was the first time Sebastian had heard his partner mention his life before coming to Krimson City. A wife.  It was strange; somehow he had never imagined Joseph as a family man.  Part of him wanted to probe Joseph further, but he didn’t have the energy._

_The other man’s hand was still on his shoulder.  He didn’t know what possessed him to do it, but in one quick movement he turned and pressed his mouth against Joseph’s.  His partner gasped, inhaling sharply against Sebastian’s lips. A moment later he was leaning into the kiss, open mouthed.  Sebastian wasn’t sure how long the kiss lasted but by the time it ended Joseph’s hand had moved from his shoulder to his hair and his own hands were twisted in Joseph’s vest. It was only then that he remembered himself.  More specifically, he remembered he was straight, that he was still –legally speaking—married to a woman.  A woman whom he loved._

_“Fuck,” he pulled away, wiping his wrist across his lips._

_“Seb…”_

_“That was a mistake.” Sebastian mumbled. “That was a mistake. Just… just forget it happened.  Forget it. Don’t mention it again.” He was speaking as much to himself as to Joseph._

_“Sebastian, don’t,” Joseph said, reaching for the other man’s shoulder again, tentatively. Sebastian jerked away from him._

_“Stop. Just… Just go. Just forget about it for fuckssake!”_

_“I’m…I’m sorry Seb.” Joseph said quietly. He rose to his feet quickly and neatly and left the apartment without another word._

When he felt bold or distant enough, Sebastian sometimes considered what might have happened if he’d said something, if he’d called after the other man.  But it was too late now.  Joseph was dead.  There would be no second chance, no opportunity to apologize, to say _it wasn’t a mistake, it was right, it was good._ Joseph was dead.

            This was his train of thought as he examined the off-white ceiling panels that had proved his most constant companion. 

            “Castellanos you still with us?”  Agent Martin was still sitting beside his bed.  The man contented himself browsing the hospital menu as he waited for Sebastian to contemplate the answers to his questions. 

            “Yeah, yeah… what’d you say again?”  Sebastian mumbled.

            “After your wife left… did anything strange happen?  Anything else happen?”

            “No,” said Sebastian, “nothing that means anything anyway.  Not until the incident at Beacon.”

            The agent hummed in assent.  “And you said there were no signs of a struggle… after she left I mean.  It didn’t look like she could’ve been kidnapped?”

            “No. There was an investigation… a forensics team and everything.  Nothing.” Sebastian fingered the IV that protruded from his left hand. 

            “Yeah I read the reports from the investigation.  You weren’t involved in it were you?”

            “Not exactly no.”

            “Ah,” Agent Martin leaned back in his chair.  “Vigilantism. Can’t say I blame you. I’d do the same if it was my wife.”

            “You have a wife?”  Sebastian asked, eager to shift the conversation from the shitstorm of his own life.

            “Nah. I’m kind of a lone wolf.”

            “I thought you said you had a partner.”

            “Yeah. We’re both lone wolves.” The man’s chuckle sounded hollow. Sebastian thought that perhaps he and the agent were similar people, and that made him feel sorry for the other man.

            The atmosphere was suddenly shattered by the muffled sound of an electric guitar.  “That’s my phone,” the agent said, hastily rising to his feet, “excuse me.”  He stood hastily and ducked outside the room.

            This left Sebastian in silence again.  He hadn’t realized how glad he was for company.  No one, save the feds, had come to visit him these past few days. It was not until this moment that that sunk in.  He was alone in the world. More than he had ever reckoned before.  The knowledge came crashing down on him with a heartbreaking finality: everyone who had ever loved him was dead.  And so in a bout of voyeurism, he contented himself to eavesdrop on the agent.

            “What does that mean?”  Agent Martin was saying, demanding rather, “Cas this is… this is big.  This is bad.  But…he’s alive? How much does he remember? Fuck…well… should I tell Castellanos?”

            At his name, Sebastian perked up.

            “The guy has a right to know, Cas!  …Whether he makes it or not.  …Yeah no… no you’re right.  I’ll call Sam. …You’re right… but at least tell the other one… he should know Castellanos is alive.  But I won’t…I’ll wait.  I guess…yeah I have to finish up here.  I’ll meet you at Beacon in an hour…Cas I…yeah… bye.”

            Agent Martin stood outside for another minute before coming back inside. This gave Sebastian a moment to think. So the agent was lying to him. He was not so much surprised as disappointed.  He’d been conducting this investigation on his own since Myra’s disappearance and no one had ever truly been on his side.  Besides perhaps Joseph.  And Joseph was dead. It was at that moment that Sebastian resolved to get out of the hospital and get back on the case.

 

 

***Castiel***

            “I’m here to help,” was the first thing Castiel could think to say. Whether or not that was true, if he _could_ help or if he _should_ , he did not know yet.  The man was sprawled, half sitting, half lying on the tiled floor. He looked utterly out of place in the decrepit, clinical environment.  Anything living would.

            “You need to get out of here,” said the man.  “Now. It’s not safe here.”

            “I know,” Castiel replied, extending a hand, which the other man refused, rising on his own instead. 

            Up close he seemed cleaner somehow—neater, than he had looked at a distance. This was not a man who had just fought for his life.  He wore black-framed glasses, which were cracked on one side, the only sign of dishevelment on his whole body.

            Castiel was suddenly ill at ease.  “Who are you?” He asked.

            “Joseph,” said the man, “Detective Joseph Oda, KCPD.”

            Oda... the name was familiar, he had seen it before on one of the documents Sam had printed out—one of the detectives who had gone missing. If he remembered correctly, he was Castellanos’s partner. 

            “How did you get here?”  Joseph asked, looking around the barren room as if he expected to see the answer printed on one of the walls.

            “Through the front door,” was his simple reply.

            “You didn’t... see anything?  Hear anything?”

            “No.”

            A long pause. 

            “Good. We should get out of here.” Joseph started toward the door to the hall.  Castiel followed a short distance behind.  There was so much about this case that was already wrong.

            “How long have you been here?”  Castiel asked.

            “I...don’t know.”  The other man paused again, stopping in his tracks just outside the room.  “Who are you?”  He asked, “Are you FBI?”

            “Yes.” Castiel was suddenly reminded of his alias.  He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the badge.  “Agent Phillips.”

            Joseph only gave the ID a fleeting glance.  He seemed distressed.  “Are you one of them?” He whispered.

            “What?”

            “It’s alright. I know.  I already know. I don’t care if you kill me, just don’t send me back.”  His tone was rushed, his mouth tight. 

            “What do you mean?”

            “You know what I mean.  The other world the... the experiment, Kidman.  I can’t go back.”

            “What other world, detective?”  Castiel asked, cocking his head a little in confusion.  Joseph was shaking now, his hands, gloved, twisted into fists at his sides.  “I don’t know about any other world, or any experiment.  All I know is that people have been going missing from this hospital. Including you.”

            “You... you really don’t do you?  You’re not...”

            “No. I’m not.  I just want to help, to get you out of here.”

            The detective began to walk again, slowly this time, down the hall in the direction of the exit.  “So... what’s your theory then?  Why does the FBI think this is happening?”

            “It doesn’t matter.  If you know the truth, tell me.  My partner is outside, in the hospital.  I have to let him know.”

            Joseph sighed and reached into his pocket.  He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to Castiel.

            _Joseph,_

 _I was supposed to kill you after the mission.  You and the others.  To eliminate incriminating evidence. But I guess I’ve gone a little soft on you.  Couldn’t do it._   _You have to run, Joseph.  Get out of town, out of the country if you can.  If they find out you’re alive… You don’t want to know.  Just run._

_I’m sorry,_

_-Kidman_

            “I found this on me when I woke up.”  Joseph elaborated, “the others, the other people who disappeared, they—we were all taken for some kind of experiment.  They sent us into some... other world this other place.  They—“ 

            “Who are ‘they’?”

            “It sounds insane,” Joseph mumbled, “I know it does.  But it’s an inside job.  They’re feds. What they’re doing... it’s government sanctioned.”

            This was big. Bigger than demons or ghosts. If Joseph was right, then whatever forces were at work in that place were human. 

            “Excuse me.” He said abruptly, stepping away and pulling out his phone.  Dean had to know.

            The phone rang three times before Dean answered.

            “What’s up, Cas?”

            “Dean, it isn’t demons,” he cut right to the point.

            “What does that mean?”

            “It’s humans, Dean. Your government. Whatever is happening it goes so much deeper than we thought.  I found Joseph Oda, the other missing detective.  He saw it, Dean.”

            “Cas this is… this is big.  This is bad.” A pause, “But... he’s alive? How much does he remember?”

            “I don’t know yet,” admitted Castiel, checking over his shoulder to make sure Joseph was out of earshot, “but I don’t trust him.  Not yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the-evil-within-on-crack for giving me the idea and the impetus to write this, and to lady-of-rohan for beta reading this in record time! Hopefully I'll be updating this every other week or so since I have a lot of free time now.


End file.
